The Constant
by Shawtymanex42
Summary: Cartman and Kyle just can't escape each other. They've loved each other, for better or worse, for practically their entire lives. But can they handle it when they're so close to get everything they've wanted? This took me about a week to write and it totally kicked my ass. Kyman. Rated M. Hope you like and reviews are appreciated!


A/N 1. Cartman and Kyle are 36 in this story

2. I was feeling very angsty when I wrote this, as you can probably tell. It may also give you a headache

3. This fic is split up as Cartman's POV and Kyle's POV.

4. I'm sorry

* * *

**10:20 PM, April 18th, 8 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

I try to ignore the false, over enthusiastic moans and whimpers of the half-naked slut that is spread out on my sheets. Instead, I concentrate on forming the image of him in my head, but it's difficult. This foolish girl doesn't possess the same firmness, richness and warm, addictive taste. As I mechanically glide her black lace panties from her supple legs I realise that she has too much curves, too much silkiness. The only thing she possesses of his is the hair.

"So you don't have any special requests? None at all?" She grumbles underneath me, her eyes shimmering disgustingly as I fumble with my fly.

"Can I call you something?" I ask bluntly, no time for politeness.

"Like what?" She beams, becoming excited, I thinks she likes me. "Slut? Bitch?" Jesus Christ, this girl has issues.

"Kahl?" I finally say, the word piercing me and arousing me at the same time.

"Sure" She replies, albeit rather hesitantly, staring at me like I'm some pathetic weirdo. I guess I am. "Anything you want, gorgeous"

I smile uncomfortably before placing my unsure lips on her slim neck, her abundance of auburn hair floods my peripheral vision.

Her artificial cry of pleasure as I sink my cock inside her is ignored as I shudder and moan desperately "Kahl"

**Kyle's POV**

Amazingly, Bebe and I are both calm and silent in the aftermath of our conversation. Divorce. 8 years of marriage and a wonderful four-year old son and yet I'm not happy. I never was happy. Yet I was never truly sad, I was indifferent, confused and numb. For so many reasons, but really, if I'm totally honest, all of that pristine, sugar-coated bullshit can be wiped away to reveal one person. Bebe doesn't know about him, us. And she never will, I've already hurt her enough.

"I'm going to bed" She mindlessly whispers, tears forming in her pretty, lime green eyes, not looking at me but offering me consolation in the form of a smile.

Once she's gone I take the ring off of my finger and study it. A perfect, gilded circle that encased the trembling, beating trail to my battered heart. Who thought that this symbol which should remind me of my broken promises to Bebe, could remind me so much of him? And his beautiful eyes.

~x~

**Cartman's POV**

**9 years old**

I can't believe I got in trouble because of that damn Jew. He's such an over sensitive asswipe, why does he get so mad at the things I say? It's not a big deal... I know deep down I don't really mean it. No matter how hard I try.

My eye really fucking hurts from where he punched me. It was such a sneaky little Jew move, the only way he can fight me is when I'm off guard. He's like a rabid cat when he fights, his fists morph into a speedy green blur and his face gets all flushed and determined, it's kind of scary, but it's funny. I can't help but smile.

We're sitting in our usual spot outside the principal's office. I just want to get an ice pack or something, everything feels sore, I don't even know if I could stand up. It's such a horrible silence since Kyle refuses to talk to me. I look over at him and inspect the damage. His dark green jeans are ripped at the knees, thick crimson blood staining his dry skin. His coat is all dirty and stretched from where I grabbed him and pushed him, his mouth is swollen and the blood from his wound has turned a sickening shade of purple and his face looks heated, covered with vicious scratches.

I grin at every small feature illuminating his scars, his green eyes bring out his grazes, his pink small lips make his cut bloom, his ginger curls poking out from beneath his hat frame his pissed off face. I run my fingers curiously over my own purple, bruised arms and burn up at the fact that Jewboy's indescribable touch did this to me. It makes me feel like we share something, something that nobody will understand and something that we'll never let them take from us. I'm not going to share him.

**Kyle's POV**

I hate going to the nurses office with Cartman. It has nothing to do with the fact that our school nurse has a dead foetus attached to her head, I've become used to that now. It's just that all Cartman does when we're lying on those little white beds is bitch and complain and rip on me but I'm always too tired to fight back and shut him up.

I've been trying to block out Cartman's annoying moans of "Ow, my arm really fucking hurts Kahl, you Jewish piece of shit, you're gonna pay for this" by reading the posters on the wall. But not even reading these posters about dental hygiene and food tables is enough to keep me sane.

Gritting my teeth, I turn my head to tell Cartman to shut up when I see that he's crying soft, thin tears and clutching his swollen arm protectively.

It almost makes me feel guilty. And I've never felt guilty about hurting Cartman before, it's usually the opposite.

"Cartman, it's going to be fine" I mutter impatiently.

"Well, you should know" Cartman pouts "You're the one who did this"

Holding back laughter I try to reply nicely "Okay, I'm sorry, are you happy now?"

"A little bit" Cartman mumbles, blushing and turning away from me before falling asleep.

And as I watch his wide chest rise and fall and listen to his funny little snores, I realise I can't stop staring and thinking about crazy things. He looks so warm and comfy, squeezable like a teddy bear, I can't seem to shake off the thought of moving closer to him, slinging his thick, soft arm over my skinny, small shoulders and nuzzling into his warmth. That's fucking sick, I know. This is Cartman for God sake! What the hell is wrong with me?

Curiously, I reach my fingers out and trace the nasty bruise, my fingers look even paler when they meet that rich purple. I close my eyes and imagine it's satin. I smile at the feel of it and weirdly my smile becomes wider when I realise that it's Cartman's arm I'm stroking.

Suddenly, he flinches and I quickly pull my hand away, desperately trying to forget this ever happened. I nervously clasp my hands together and squint up into the harsh lights, hot, frustrated tears pricking my eyes. I fucking hate this.

* * *

**3:00 PM, April 19th, 7 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

Work is a fucking drag, even though I pretty much run this place I still feel like a failure. See, the backstabbing, manipulating, barefaced lies, that's the fun part of coldly striding your way to the top but once you finally reach the pedestal and stare at all the trampled bodies, well, the satisfaction is finite. Still, how many things truly last forever?

Even if I had something to do I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I've got to wait a week until I see him and it's slowly driving me insane. Like last night, unbelievably I don't usually fuck a lot of prostitutes. Maybe it's because of some mother issues I have, but I always found it rather unglamorous, unlike the people I meet who always treat themselves whilst away on business. But he makes me desperate and lonely and in the run up to our annual liaisons, I tend to take things too far. But as soon as I saw red hair, I knew she was worth it. Even if she was extremely overpriced and I would've blown a nicer load if I had done it myself.

It's clear that I'm pining for Kyle and in my lovesick delirium I scroll through my e-mails trying to find the most recent one he's sent me.

Every word is made sweeter by the sound of his voice, the voice that I've memorised and sounds so lovely to me. Only Kyle could make me feel like this, make me recognise that this pumping, chunk of meat in my chest is what makes me human.

But there's that one line that's always there, that's marred across my every frayed nerve.

_I miss you. Always._

**Kyle's POV**

I haven't seen Bebe since last night, she left for work early in the morning and left a blunt note for me on the kitchen table "_Kyle, please pick Toby up from preschool today_" I can't blame her for being angry, I expect her to be, though for a year now things have been different. It felt like we were just acting like a perfect couple even when there was nobody around to watch or judge. I kind of miss how things were when we were in college, I was heartbroken and lost and she found me, she was always so understanding and vivacious and tried heavily to hide the sadness, the longing. But we couldn't go on pretending, we became feverish and curious and we weren't enough for each other anymore. It doesn't mean I don't still love her. I'm still, and I always will be grateful.

Maybe we won't have to explain this to Toby. I mull this over as I stand outside his small little classroom with all the other parents. Toby's only four, he won't understand what's going on, will he? And if we turn it into a big deal then maybe that would just be worse. He might not even remember it. For example, the only memory I have from when I was four years old is my kindergarten teacher being set on fire and that hasn't scarred me at all. Then again, I am from South Park so you become used to things that are potentially scarring and write them off as just another crazy occurence.

I'm snapped out of my daydream by a couple of impatient tugs on my coat and a voice whining "Daddy!"

"Oh, hey champ!" I smile, Toby's small, pudgy hand automatically clinging to mine as we start to walk away from the hoard of parents and children.

Toby looks exactly like I did when I was his age. It's almost scary. He has the same scarlet ringlets, pale skin, abundance of freckles, the only thing he possesses of Bebe's is her eyes. They're green, but not as dark as mine, they're lighter than Bebe's even, they almost descend into a pale blue. Toby was born a year after I started going on "business trips" twice a year, which made me feel guilty that I was hiding a part of my life from him, a part that he may initially be ashamed by. Not because of who I'm going on these "business trips" with, but just because I have another person in my life that means as much to me as Toby and yet I'm keeping him a secret. Hell, when Toby was born and I held him for the first time, all I could think about was calling Cartman and telling him the news that I had a son now.

Sometimes when I look at Toby I wonder what he would look like if he belonged to Cartman and I. Which is absurd and physically impossible, but I imagine him or his brother and sister looking more like us. Maybe they would have Cartman's button nose and my freckles? Or his striking Golden Brown eyes and my red hair? The more I think about it, the more normal Cartman and I seem. We seem more stable and simple, this imaginary life makes me feel more fulfilled.

~x~

**13 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

Believe it or not, when Kyle and I argue, I have a lot of thoughts going through my head. It's not just mindless anger, looking at that stupid Jew does something to me and all my thoughts are hooked on him. His name tattoos every heartbeat, every breath whispers it. It's enough to drive me crazy, but he's already done that. I argue with him even more now, because I have a huge crush on him and arguing is the only way we can remain close, that I can let my frustration out on him without him really knowing what's going on. But today I've decided that enough is enough. I'm going to confirm my feelings for him whether he likes it or not and if he doesn't speak to me again then so be it. It'll hurt like hell, I know, watching him walk away... But I need to do something. One kiss from him will numb the pain forever.

He looks so fucking cute right now, he's still shouting at me though I've lost track of our argument. I close the small gap between us by quickly grabbing his wrists and pinning them against the wall. Naturally, he squirms and tries to wriggle his way out, the anger practically radiating from him, all I offer him is a pleased smile. I bore my fingers deeper into his wrists, his hands flaring a deep pink instantly and he grits his teeth and groans as his skin sears under my grip.

"Cartman! What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go, fatass!" Kyle demands, you know he's the only person who can look me straight in the eyes without flinching? He must like them, sometimes I catch him staring wistfully.

"No" I growl, letting myself get torn apart by Emerald bullets.

"This isn't funny!" He protests, stamping his foot, trying to kick me but misses.

I come closer to him, pressing him against the wall and my wicked, smiling face meets his terrified, totally confused one. Our noses brush together and I can taste his sweet breath as his chest rises and falls. So close. So wonderfully close. This is bliss. My eyes trail down to his soft, full lips as his breathing starts to slow down, molding with my own and it feels we're slowly, carefully sinking into one and other.

"It's alright, Kahl" I whisper hungrily, tilting my head as our lips make contact, gliding beautifully. He whimpers. I moan. It's fucking fantastic "Don't freak out and try and stay still."

Something warm and electric blossoms in my core when I press my lips against Kyle's. I smile into his mouth, trembling slightly as I loosen my grip on his wrists. I capture his lips over and over, it's addictive, these chaste kisses. His sweet taste. His gentle lips. I couldn't walk away from this if I tried. My eyes are closed in pleasure while Kyle's are squeezed shut in disgust. Until he pushes me away, I won't stop. No, I have to enjoy every moment I can.

But then Kyle's quivering arms drape around my broad shoulders, clutching me helplessly. His fingers curiously claw their way through my hair and he actually moans into my mouth, hot and wet. Kissing me back. Wait, kissing me back? Kyle actually wants to kiss me?! He couldn't have felt this way... All this time. My heart fucking soars.

**Kyle's POV**

Fuck it, I can't pretend anymore. I've thought about this moment for four years and here I am, just standing here, trying to escape from something that I know I truly want, I need to kiss him back. God, his lips are soft and he's surprisingly gentle, it makes me feel like he cares. That there's something he's not telling me. Still, his kisses are so greedy that I know it's Cartman. I've never been kissed like this before and I pray that every kiss I ever have will feel as good as this one.

My wrists are sore as I wrap my arms around him, I have to let him know that I'm enjoying this. He deserves that much, it must've taken him a lot of courage to kiss me in the first place and if he can admit that he has feelings for me, then the least I can do is show him that I like him too, right?

I'm fed up of these chaste kisses, this nervous adrenaline makes me lick his mouth open with this indescribable desire to feel his tongue in my mouth. Cartman shudders and bites my lip, his tongue finds its way in my mouth, I cringe as I gasp in shock. Damn, he tastes good. Like candy.

I arch my back so my body is pressed even closer to his and as our chests swell powerfully, it takes my breath away, practically scraping for oxygen. I'm hit by this heady wall of pleasure that feels familiar, it's the same feeling I get when Cartman and I fight, it's the same feeling I get when he looks at me, says my name, when I see him at the bus stop in the morning... It's never felt so strong and amazing, it's never made me react this way. It's never made my heart feel like it's beating all around my body, it's never made me feel so flustered and dizzyingly happy. Until now. Until Cartman kissed me for the first time.

* * *

**2:00 PM, April 20th, 6 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

God damn, it's fucking hot. Unseasonably hot in fact. So what am I doing on a scorching day like this? Locking myself in a payphone, dialling Kyle's number with shaky hands. That's how pathetic I've become. This is what I'm spending my lunch hour doing.

As I wait for him to pick up, I trace the grooves of the carved initials on the phone stand, the relentless sun making the glass walls gleam harshly. Did I mention how fucking hot it was?!

"Hello?" Jesus Christ. I bite my lip and my stomach feels uncomfortably light.

"Hello?" Kyle repeats, more pressing, shit, I need to answer.

"Hi. It's me." I swallow, my voice becoming hoarse.

"Oh, hi" Kyle laughs, his voice is slightly muffled from the shitty payphone but it makes me sigh in relief. "Cartman, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine" I lie.

"Are you sure? You're not calling to cancel are you?" Kyle teases, with just a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"No, no of course I'm not, it's just..." I pause, pinching the bridge of my nose and shutting my eyes so I can succumb to this vertigo. "Look, if I tell you something, promise you won't rip on me?"

"I'm afraid I can't." Kyle quips, I roll my eyes and laugh under my breath.

"I called you because... Well... I've been thinking a lot about, well, us, particularly you, and I just wanted to hear your voice." I squirm at how sentimental I sound, that is so not me. It's enough to make me want to swallow a bullet. I don't know whether the soft currents of Kyle's breathing is a good thing or a bad thing.

"That's creepy."

"I know it is" I groan, still, Kyle's laugh pulls me out of this slump of embarrassment. "How are you, anyway?"

"I've been better. If it's any consolation, I've been thinking a lot about you too"

"Really?"

"Yeah, but not in the girly, lame way that you've been thinking about me." Kyle says flirtatiously, it's enough to make me get a boner. Jesus fucking Christ, I've missed him.

"Is that right?" I smile.

Kyle laughs again before hesitantly saying "I can't wait to see you."

"Same here" I reply, a cheesy grin spreading across my face.

There's this unimportant, long pause where I'm smiling stupidly and realising what a gorgeous day it is. And I'm sure Kyle's smiling too. At least I hope he is. I hope it's just as sunny where he is.

"I gotta go, bye Cartman" Kyle mumbles, disappointed. It hurts.

"Bye Kahl" I sigh, limply loosening my grip on the phone. The disconnected, shrill sound mocking me. God damn, this heat is unbearable.

**6:15 PM, April 20th, 6 more days**

**Kyle's POV**

I feel so empty and lost as I pack up my stuff, ready to take with me to Stan's apartment. All I can really think about is folding my clothes and what stuff is rightfully mine to take. Bebe won't mind if I take the Pulp Fiction DVD, will she? She never liked that movie anyway. I, however, think it's the best Quentin Tarantino movie of all time and it's also Stan and I's favourite movie, he even got me a "Bad Mother Fucker" wallet for Hanukkah. I think I still have it somewhere...

I don't notice Bebe standing in the doorway, watching me with an expression of surprise and resentment, holding a glass of white wine.

"Do you need any help?" She asks, I wince, I feel like a douchebag.

"No, really, I'm fine" I nod, going back to looking for the Denver Nuggets hoodie that Bebe says makes me look like I'm in middle school.

"Kyle, can I ask you something?"

"Sure" I reply, without really caring what Bebe's saying.

"Did you ever, honestly love me?"

I don't even need to think. I turn to face Bebe, studying her and smiling "Yes."

"Do you think that maybe, somehow, in the distant, distant future you could fall back in love with me?"

No. God, she sounds so pitiful that it makes me want to hate her and hug her at the same time. I don't know what to think anymore. I can tell she's crying, her voice was wavering with tears. I'm so sorry Bebe, I never meant to hurt you. I promise.

"Maybe" I whisper, furrowing my eyebrows as guilt chokes me vengefully.

~x~

**16 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

It's been three years since Kyle and I kissed and it seems like nothing's changed. We didn't declare our love for each other, we didn't merrily walk to the bus stop the next morning holding hands (that probably would've been enough to give Stan a heart attack) and we didn't become a couple. In fact, I pretty much avoided him after the kiss because I was so God damn embarrassed, I knew he wouldn't tell anyone but it was just the thought of staring into those beautiful eyes that knew my weakness for him. I couldn't stand it. We've never, ever talked about it either. Even now when he comes over my house, usually when Stan goes on dates with Wendy. So I guess I'm a second option. The thing is, I don't mind. We either get along great or we argue. Both are okay with me. I like how he makes me angry and I like it when I make him angry. On the surface, it's a win-win situation, but underneath, well, it's kind of breaking me.

Like now, he's shouting eloquent, witty insults at me, his face is flushing blossom and his eyes are wide and glimmering and all I can think of is either punching him or kissing him. He came over to play video games and as usual we've gotten into a fight. We're alone too so we can scream at each other as loud as we want, we could probably kill each other too. Though I'd have to kill myself afterwards. That's just the kind of guy I am.

I have to do something to shut him up.

Punch him or kiss him.

Punch him or kiss him.

This has been eating away at me for years. The frustration, the loss of control.

Punch him or kiss him.

Punch him or kiss him.

The crazy thing is I actually miss him, how crazy is that?! I see him practically everyday and I fucking miss being close to him.

Punch him or kiss him.

I give in. Fall into nothing as I roughly grab him by his shirt and force him to my lips. And just to prove how good of an opponent he is, he kisses me back, hard and forceful as we both struggle for dominance over one and other.

My mouth feels numb and bruised as our tongues invade each other's mouths, I can feel his in my throat. Kyle doesn't flinch as I rip his jacket off of him, my hand snaking up his chest and taking his hard nipple between my thumb and index finger. His skin is hot and smooth. His mouth is plush and wet. In short, he feels like heaven. I can feel him hardening, Hell, I am too and this rich, arousal that has been sizziling in my core, implodes.

I break away from the kiss to take his shirt off and when I meet his eyes, their pleading and heart-wrenchingly honest. I want to know what he's thinking about, but he's probably thinking the same thing I am. A small, trembling smile flickers on his face and I happily reciprocate.

I start to feel nervous as he takes my shirt off, I try to busy myself by taking his jeans off, my fingers shaking over the fly and button. I pause, however, when I realise there are delicate, electric fingertips trailing hungrily down my chest.

"Wow" Kyle gasps, smiling wickedly, biting his lip. Huh, I guess high school football has paid off.

As Kyle steps out of his jeans, I sling my arm around his waist, he practically melts and trembles in my grip. He throws his head back as I plant kisses down his slender neck, run my tongue along the groove of his collarbone and kiss and bite his perfect chest. I can't think straight in this beautiful whirlwind, the amazing heat of this incredible moment. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle... Every kiss and touch screams it.

"Cartman" he moans, fervent, quivering, his shaking hand reaches out to grip the side of my desk for support.

"Fuck me" Kyle whispers, sizzling. I stare up at him with bewildered eyes. Kyle just smiles, shrugs his shoulders and strokes my hair.

Our eyes meet and suddenly I've never been so sure.

**Kyle's POV**

No sooner were the two words out of my mouth. _Fuck me_. And Cartman had picked me up, thrown me on his bed and captured my mouth again. Before giving me the best experience I ever, ever had.

I'm lying here, exhausted, overwhelmed and strung out on sex. My body is shaking and weak, my heartbeat continues to waver, making it harder for me to breathe. I'm covered in sweat (among other things) and I can't stop staring at Cartman, who's lying on my chest in silence, listening intently to the sounds of my laboured breathing.

This couldn't have been his first time. He was so damn good. Every touch he gave me was packed with meaning and adoration, like he didn't want to touch anybody else. His kisses were dizzying and consuming, making me moan repeatedly. And when he finally thrust into me, he licked the tears away from my face. I clung to him, crying madly and he moaned hungrily and lustfully. I must've said his name a hundred times, it was the only word I could think of. For a while, I wasn't just in love with him, I was obsessed with him. And after all these years of eliciting all these passionate, unhinged emotions out of me, I'm still surprised that he could make me feel like this.

Because the plain, simple truth is I'm in love with him. Painfully, mercilessly, unconditionally in love with him. From when he kissed me to all those years before that when we fought violently every day, he's been able to make me come alive. Create this inferno within me.

"Kahl" Cartman whimpers, small and lost. He stares at me with conflicted, loving eyes "I never meant any of those horrible things I said to you"

"I know" I nod, my eyes growing misty as I run a hand through his damp, chestnut hair.

* * *

**3:00 AM, April 21st, 5 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

I don't bother turning the lights on in my living room as I neatly cut up the pile of white with one of my many credit cards. The depressing blues and toxic greens of the city illuminate the room. Luckily, I can't see my reflection. I'd hate to see what a mess I am.

My nights usually end like this. Kenny and I go out, we drink and have intoxicated fun before he leaves me in our booth, his excuse barely comprehensible above the thumping, heavy music. Though it's clear to see why he's leaving. Another girl pulling at his wrist, winking and smiling at me. I wouldn't give them the time of day.

Kenny still thinks I'm clean. As does Kyle. Even though they're the only two people in the world who I actually give a shit about, I need to have something to help me. This gets me through the day whether they like it or not.

So I stumble out of the club after I finish my drink and walk to my dealer's apartment. He's always pleased to see me, even though he's half asleep and muttering curse words under his breath. I ignore his wife shouting from the bedroom and the wailing baby who's been woken up. I'm his favourite customer.

I remember my first experience of drugs, I was 15 and Kenny had stolen some weed from his big brother. Me, Stan, Kenny and Kyle passed the joint around, laughing and babbling stupid shit. We were kids then, careless, happy, naïve kids who couldn't see how bad things would get. Lucky bastards.

But the first time I did cocaine was the summer Kyle went to college and through the storm clouds came a ray of white sunshine.

My wallet is bursting with bills, I fish for one and roll it up, pressing the paper to the one of the thick white lines and watch it vanish. I wretch and swallow the bile that's risen in my throat. I lick my lips and moan. There really is nothing like it. I imagine Kyle's bite. His teeth sinking into my neck. It's all I can process.

My hands stroke the space and I grumble as I snort the second line. That's better.

What's Kyle doing? Sleeping with Bebe, probably. Fucking her. Making another kid. Uch. It's disgusting. He called me and said "I have a son!" and he sounded so fucking smug about it because I know his baby is beautiful. I've seen pictures and he looks like his father. How old is he now? Four? Kyle talks about him all the time. Toby.

Kyle has a family and all I've got is him. I hang off every detail of his life, constantly ponder, dying to call him and ask what's going on. I pretend that he's coming home to our apartment, picking up our kid from school. I pretend that we have a house and kids and that we go on vacations and have photo albums. But we don't. I don't. I'm just on the outside, looking in on his picture perfect life, while I waste my time with drinks that all taste the same, girls and guys who act the same way and are easily disposable, drugs that are slowly rotting my insides and signing my death warrant. Everything and everybody is rooting for me to give up. No wonder I feel so fucking alone, no wonder I come home to an empty apartment. Nobody wants me, cares about me, I'm just an inconvenience that they're slowly getting rid of. I have a better fucking idea, why don't you just send me to the altar and drive a knife into my heart?

It makes me think, do I matter? I only know I matter to Kyle. Addictive, incredible, unattainable Kyle who's made even more desirable by the fact that I can't fucking have him and I'll be kept a secret in his life until the day I die. And then all the traces of our affair will be officially wiped away and no one will fucking notice I was here. I had him. Once upon a time...

There lived two boys in a town filled with ignorant asswipes who made it their mission to make the two boys' lives a living hell. Because they wouldn't know true love if it run them over with a pick up truck.

The third line I wipe away with my finger. The powder glistens, mesmerizing and peculiar on the tip of my digit. I imagine Kyle sucking the white off as I lick it away, rubbing it on my gums for good measure.

Why do I get the feeling that I've lost this fight?

**9:00 AM April 21st 5 more days**

**Kyle's POV**

Life has to carry on as normal. Which is easier to come to terms with than I thought, because now I just feel liberated and relieved, not having to lie to myself and to Bebe anymore. I hope Bebe feels the same way, we haven't been happy for a while and what she asked me yesterday was probably more out of despair than anything else.

I'm crashing on Stan's couch while I look for a place, however today is his day off so the apartment is essentially mine for the morning as I get ready for work. The prospect of soon becoming one of the youngest partners in my firm and the fact that I get to see Cartman in five days is keeping me positive. It's such a strange time.

My thoughts drift closer to Cartman as I stand here in the shower, not even the hot water can make me snap out of my daydreams. As the bar of soap glides over my stomach, I imagine how his lips feel when they touch my skin. And suddenly I'm in my old room, in my parents house and it's raining outside, the snow flowing in slushy rivers down the sidewalk. But Cartman and I are fooling around, trying to be quiet because my mom and dad are downstairs and Ike is in the next room. Cartman pins me down, kissing my neck and running his hands underneath my shirt, making me shiver. But he's not sixteen anymore, he's an adult, a man and I can't stop picturing this man holding the sixteen year old me and telling me that he loves me with desperate ferocity and I promise I love him too.

I close my eyes and I can smell his cologne, feel his breath on the nape of my neck and his hand coil around my half hard dick. I whimper into the hot, moist air, water dripping down my body and my vision floods with memories of him. We're seventeen, on our one year anniversary, walking home from a party, he squeezes my hand and says to me "I love you" and I mouth back "I love you too". We're 35 and I arrange to see him on his birthday. He's standing in the car park of a quiet motel, July rain beating relentlessly against my windshield. But I see him. Hiding from the storm, studying me with probing eyes and a self-assured, knowing smile.

I imagine us drinking coffee in the morning, spending Thanksgiving together, walking around an empty house with a woman who is pushing us to buy it. I want him to meet Toby. So he can learn that it's okay to love who ever you want and that nothing's going to change. I just wish things could be simpler because we're not teenagers anymore. We're fucking adults, God damn it. And we can do whatever we want. And I know I want him. Everyday.

My only regret is, well, letting him slip. Because I was too God damn afraid.

Fear is the miles that keep us apart. Fear is all the pretence and the lives we've built because it's safer to stay away. Keep quiet. But what's our reward? Nothing.

I can only take comfort in the fact that we're both losers and that we're tied together by something they'll never take away from us.

~x~

**16 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

Kyle and I have been secretly dating for two months. We still argue fervently and annoy each other to the point where we could happily kill each other, except our anger softens when we pause, breathe and smile. Because Kyle is the only person who could make me so insanely angry and yet I would perish if he wasn't around. And I know he feels the same way.

I guess it's kind of exciting to pretend. It's weird because Kenny always studies us and smiles smugly at me, making me paranoid that he knows something. Kyle tells me he feels guilty for not telling Stan, but Stan would not take the news well. He'd probably throw up and then try to kill me. Not because Stan's jealous or anything, I don't know if he likes Kyle the same way I do. It's just... Well... Stan and Kyle have always been so protective of one and other. And though I'd hate to say it, Stan probably thinks I'm the kind of person that Kyle needs to be protected from. But what gives him the right to be so judgemental of me? I'm not an idiot, I have done some bad things in my life. Unforgivable things. But I would never, ever hurt Kyle. I would never betray him or break his heart, mostly because I'm so terrified of losing him that I would never, ever want to leave.

This is probably going to sound like the lamest thing, but, I'm not surprised that Kyle and I have ended up together. It seems like from the moment we met, our stars were crossed and our fates were written and some daunting, intangible force was working over our heads to make this happen. But if this is the universe speaking to me, then so be it. Because I kind of like what it's brought me. Out of all the people in this Podunk town that I could've ended up with, I'm glad that it's someone as amazing as Kyle.

I get reminded of that with every inside joke, every stolen kiss, every long night, every secret phone call and every time he holds my hand under the lunch table. After years of purgatory, things have become so much clearer.

It's hard not to listen to all those rumours and stories about what they do to gay kids in this town and every town surrounding it. It's happened here, Kenny's brother told us, they thought some kid in senior year was gay so they followed him home, pinned him down, beat the shit out of him. The worst part is that they continued to do it every day for two weeks until the kid couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't go outside, he couldn't call his friends so his family moved. But where could he go? Somewhere far away, in a town that's totally different from ours and other towns like it. I guess that's pretty hard to find.

Kyle and I prefer not to talk about it. Though we know the story well. Everyone does. I guess it serves as kind of warning to anybody who's different. Whenever it comes up in conversation at lunch, on the bus, just hanging out, I see Kyle look uneasy, looking down at his sneakers and his hands fidgeting. And I wish I could hold them and tell him that we're going to be okay. But I can't. Because I'm terrified too.

But some ignorant fuckwads aren't going to ruin this. I swear.

**Kyle's POV**

So Eric Cartman is finally my boyfriend. No matter how much I say it, it still feels like the craziest fucking thing. After we had sex over at his house, we talked and argued for hours over our feelings for each other until eventually I just sighed in defeat and said "Look, do you wanna be my boyfriend? Because honestly, I'm fucking crazy about you." and the look he gave me was so disbelieving and vulnerable that I kind of realised why I fell for him in the first place.

And he didn't answer me with any arrogance, he just blushed and mumbled "Yeah, I'd love to be your boyfriend."

But it hasn't been easy. And I know they say that nothing worth having ever is, but I just wish that life could give us a break... You see, for as long as I can remember, I've been different. Felt different. Not just because I'm the only Jewish kid in this town, it's something much more personal and secretive.

One of the main reasons I kept my feelings for Cartman bottled up for so long is because I was afraid of them. I shouldn't look at another boy that way, because it was weird and unnerving, but exciting and comfortable at the same time. I just find so much more to desire in a boy, I can tell if a girl is attractive because I've adopted a type for convenience. So I never felt like an outsider from conversations about the girls in our class. As far as I was concerned, this was just a little secret that I only had to keep inside for a few more years and then when I packed my bags, left this town and really experienced the world and other people beyond these sheltered mountains, then I can find out who I am.

Sometimes that was relief, an escape from the days where I felt like crying and erasing all these beautifully frightening feelings. My thoughts always led me back to him. Cartman. The polished, sinful apple of my eye, in my panic induced delirium he would hug me and rock me back and forth like I was a helpless baby and he'd tell me that I was better than this and it would be all okay soon.

Although I never admitted my feelings to anyone, not even my parents, I was smart enough to know what the adults would say if I confided in them. Because I had heard it all before.

"It's just a phase, you'll grow out of it."

"It's confusion that's all. You're growing up and your hormones are going crazy, just meet a nice girl and you'll forget all about it."

I tried my hardest to not believe them. I didn't want to be classed as "confused" or "crazy" when I knew I was rational and a normal kid with feelings. If I could have a crush on girls, then shouldn't I be able to have crushes on boys too? Why do my emotions have to be analysed so fleetingly and written off as "bad"?

Now, I know I'm not confused. Because the way I feel when Cartman kisses me, or holds my hand or makes me laugh is so clear and I know that I'm happy with him. After a while, I guess these people stop making sense and you figure out how you felt all along.

* * *

**10:00 PM, April 22nd, 4 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

It's a very unusual occurence for me to buy drinks for someone, but as the days go by I'm feeling more and more generous, which explains the free Budweiser Kenny has just received.

"What's with the free drinks?" Kenny asks, cerulean eyes brightening "Not that I'm ungrateful or anything..."

"Well, I'm just in a good mood and apparently when I'm in a good mood I buy people drinks. But, hey, what are BFFs for, right?" I reply, finishing off my third beer.

"Wait, Cartman I know what this is about" Kenny nods, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

"What?"

"It's about Kyle, right?" Fuck, that asshole has known me for too long. I scowl and nod, my face burning up in embarrassment.

"Jesus tapdancing Christ, dude! Honestly, you're such a dumb fuck!" Kenny snaps, rolling his eyes and struggling to look at me.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"You're really going to put yourself through this again?!" Fuck, the Kyle lecture. I should be used to do this by now, I should be able to shrug him off and defend myself with ease at his bitchy, judgemental words but it always leaves me with a pit in my stomach and a hopelessness that I can't help but let devour me.

"Yes, I am" I say, slow and dark, trying to frighten him, warn him not to push me because I will beat the crap out of him.

"Cartman, every year is exactly the same. For five years now you get all excited at the thought of seeing Kyle, you two have somehow created this illusion that it's romantic and fulfilling but deep down you know it's not! It's wonderful and satisfying, for like, a couple of days and then you start to yearn for him and doubt yourself and let this fucking guilt consume you because seeing him walk away reminds you of the decision you two made to let each other go and you kick yourself for not doing anything to stop it! So, then what happens? Well, you drive home, feeling more confused and depressed than ever and you can't stop thinking about him, then you call me and we sit at this very bar and I watch and I listen to you for hours on end, crying over him and telling me the things that you should be telling him! But you can't because all he is to you is 'the one who got away' and you're afraid of letting yourself believe that maybe if you told him how much this hurts you then he would want you back! But you get so hung up on the fact that he might say no that you turn all that anger and fear in on yourself and you loathe yourself and drink and snort your fucking cocaine, thinking it will make things easier but it doesn't! Do you remember that time when you OD'd and I found you passed out on your couch? I was the one who was there, terrified, calling an ambulance and trying to bring you around again! And, stupid me, I thought that maybe you would come to your senses and realise that you had to tell Kyle how you feel, but no, you carried on with this dysfunctional little routine you got going on! And Cartman, I know you love him! I do! It's kinda nice to see you so happy but it also hurts because of the pain you get left with! So why can't the both of you just work this out?! For the sake of your fucking mental wellbeing, at least! Sometimes I wish I could walk away from you, this, the constant stream of selfish pain you inflict upon yourself, but I can't. Because I care about you. That may sound faggy, but I honestly don't give a rats ass anymore! When is it going to stop? Huh, when you're old men? When Kyle realises that this is crazy? When you realise that this is crazy?! Huh, why can't you fucking let this go?! Why do you keep punishing yourself for what happened in the past?! Why are you still pursuing this, Cartman?!"

"**Because I'm fucking in love with him, alright?!"** It escapes from my throat like a roar of thunder. With all the shock and desolation that goes along with it. Hot, senseless tears fill my eyes and I feel myself tremble, a wall of nauseating terror and realisation hitting me.

I glare at Kenny with pained, tumultuous eyes, seizing the disbelief and surprise that radiates from his.

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" Kenny asks quietly, but it still has the biggest impact.

"I've known what I've been getting myself into for five years" I mutter.

"He's married. He has a kid. Kyle has responsibilities and people he needs to care for, it's not just you." Kenny warns.

"I know that, but Kenny..."

"What?" Kenny snaps.

"He cares about me, he loves me, I'm just as important to him as Bebe and Toby. I know he feels the same way."

"It's dangerous, dude. You're gonna get hurt."

"What the fuck do you want from me, Kenny?" I shout, my fists clenching, ready to hit him.

"Nothing! I, I, don't want to see you destroy yourself, you know? Just be careful, okay?" Kenny practically pleads with me and there's something so honest about his concerned features that I nod and mutter "I will"

Kenny smiles quickly at me before leaving to go to the restroom. Leaving me in the carnage of my own fucked up situation.

**Kyle's POV**

"Has Bebe called you?" Stan asks, picking a crate of beer off the shelf and putting it in the shopping cart. To be honest, I'm too distracted by thoughts of my upcoming trip to engage in conversation.

"What? Oh, uh, no..." I answer.

"Are you okay, dude?... Wait, that's a stupid question, sorry." Stan laughs, expertly steering the cart into the next aisle, while I follow, dazed, behind him.

"It's fine. I don't know, I just feel like I'm at this point where I can basically start my life over and maybe go ahead with something I've wanted for a long time and, just, well, it's a scary prospect. And a lot to get my head around." I have to speak cryptically to Stan with issues concerning Cartman. It's been twenty years and he still doesn't know about us. Even now, as a grown man with an apartment and a job as a marine biologist and who's dated a bunch of girls who I didn't particularly like myself, he would still freak the fuck out if he found out Cartman and I used to date. He'd probably have a seizure if I told him that I've been having an affair with Cartman whilst being married to Bebe.

"Of course it is! Those really amazing things that you've wanted for so long, seem so ideal when they're kind of out of reach, but once you have the opportunity to actually _have_ them, then, it seems scary. But it's good." Stan explains.

"Yeah" I smile "Yeah, it's exciting. Kinda like when Toby was born, actually"

"Then it's worth having, right? Look dude, I'm not much of an expert when it comes to starting your life over and having those thingies, what are they called?... Oh yeah, epiphanies, but I do know this" Stan stops then and gives me this confident, supportive look that hasn't changed since we were kids. He's staring at me so seriously that I may burst out laughing. But hey, it's a nice moment and I'm not gonna be a tool and spoil it.

"You have to try, Kyle. It's the perfect time to do what makes you happy... Just do it."

"Wait, I thought it was _STANd Your Ground_?" I tease.

Stan raises his eyebrows at me and smirks "Yeah, well, do that too."

~x~

**18 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

I guess it was inevitable, right? There are no secrets in a town like this.

It started a little after our one year anniversary. There were whispers in class, malicious giggles and snide remarks behind our backs. Nothing we couldn't block out, we talked about how annoying it was but we always reminded ourselves to not let it get to us.

Words are easy to dispose of, they slide so easily off the hardened skin, a little like faulty bullets that don't do any real damage unless you allow them to make you bleed. But after a while there was a chink in our armour and, honestly, we were outnumbered. Completely fucked. The pebbles started shaking and you knew the earthquake would rip the ground from under your feet.

Then came the punches, the gangs of kids who didn't even know us, some from out-of-town who would hear that there were a couple of gay kids who needed to be taken care of. Kyle and I usually walked home together, just to be sure. We knew they were waiting, sitting in their cars and patrolling the roads. Most of the time, they would get beaten up as badly as Kyle and I, we would get a few bruises, cuts, hateful words thrown at us that made anger flare. It was never sadness. Just frustration and fury and the need to scream at them "What the fuck is your problem?!"

But now, Kyle and I are slumped down on the ground, in an alley behind a store on Main Street. The cold, summer night making our bloody, flesh wounds sting. Those kids came out of nowhere and it wasn't just the usual five or six, there were about ten and more people showed up. Through the red, blurred vision and the thick, drowsy numbness of your head getting repeatedly smashed by hate filled fists you could hear the growl of an obnoxious engine and the cheers and rowdiness of those fucking cunts. I hate them all, I would happily kill them and watch them slowly fade away into the snow, look into their eyes and see how they like it. Who's a fucking coward, now?

My clothes are ripped, soaked with blood. It hurts to breathe and my ribs creak painfully, my chest swelling with heavy bruises, from where they kicked me over and over. It was when they did that did I hear the worst, most horrific sound I have ever heard, Kyle screaming my name. He was petrified of what was going on, trying to fight back from his own beating but struggling to save me. But through my blackened eyes I saw them pull at his hair, spitting on him as they sneered "Look at your little faggot boyfriend! No one's gonna help him, just like no one's gonna help you!". My jaw feels slack and disjointed from when they punched me and hit me against the wall. I managed to get in a few punches but once they all start tearing at you then there really is no fucking hope.

I stare at Kyle, his curls are tainted with blood, some red staining the cold wall behind him. Both of his eyes are swollen and purple, glistening and pussing rapidly. His nose is clearly broken, he wheezes and coughs blood, his mouth thick and bloated on the stuff. He spits the blood on the floor, a rich crimson, his face blank and shaken. He can't even cry. Well, I can't either. We're way past tears and it's just acceptance that this is supposedly what we deserve, what we saw coming. It's so unfair. We've done nothing wrong, all we did was fall in love with each other, all we did was try to be happy and they couldn't let us have that. If they opened their fucking minds for a second they'd see that we're just trying to live our lives. We're just teenagers like them.

I wait for Kyle to speak, though I can't imagine the words he could say. He's just as defeated as me. So I entertain myself with thoughts of the full moon, illuminating our sleeping town and the warm, welcoming stars that embrace it's lost, broken children.

**Kyle's POV**

I can't look at him without seeing their cruel, evil faces. The pain all blurs into one blood curdling scream that sucks the breath out of you. Makes you lose the fight. I'm not bothered about my bruised arms and legs, my sore eyes that darken the edges of my vision. I care about what they did to him, how they kicked him and spat at him and taunted him over and over. First of all I shouted. I screamed and shouted, punching and kicking madly, matching them in their vulgarity, the ugly words leaking from my mouth as fast as the blood that had erupted not long ago. But then I buckled under their numbers. The swarm of hate. And then I cried, weakly, pathetically and I blocked out their laughter and I whispered and croaked at his weak, shattered body "Cartman" over and over and over. I extended my trembling hand, wanting to stroke his arm, but a thick, black boot cracked against my bones and wouldn't ease until I promised to not touch him.

They could've left hours ago. Minutes ago. It doesn't matter. The sky still looks as bright, the town seems just as silent and unassuming. He's conscious, finding the strength to sit up and lean against the wall, leaving rivulets of blood drip behind him.

I need to speak. To show him I'm here.

"Cartman" I speak, soft and wounded.

"Yeah?" He replies, turning his head to face me. But I can't look into his eyes.

"This is ridiculous" I start to explain. With sore, bruised hands I squeeze the tears from my eyes, not even wincing at the pain. "These people aren't gonna let up."

"I know. But what can we do? Tell the police?"

"Yeah, right, we don't know any of those guys, I couldn't recognise one person. They all look the fucking same to me, anyway! And no one saw it happen... Besides, if we tell the police then those guys are just going to have more of a reason to come after us and they'll convince more people to come along and kick the shit out of us..."

"I guess." Cartman sighs sadly.

"Maybe we should just, I don't know-"

"What?"

"Maybe we should take a break" I reply, the sentence twisting my stomach in fear and loss "At least until we graduate and get out of this town."

"You don't want to be with me anymore?" Cartman asks.

I bite my lip and feel the tears slip down my face. I don't want to break his heart, it's bad enough that I can feel mine slowly coming undone. I shuffle closer to him and just the smell of his clothes and the beauty of his features outshining his wounds makes me want to hold him and never let go.

"Hey" I whisper , pulling the material of his t-shirt away from his shoulder and kissing the smooth, warm skin, working up to his neck. I can feel him smiling, moving closer to me. "Of course I want to be with you. I love you, Cartman"

Then he says those crippling, painful words "I love you too"

"But that's exactly why we can't keep on pretending that we're going to be okay. Pretty soon we're just going to drive ourselves crazy and do something we'll regret. What if one day, 10 guys come up here looking for us and we decide that they can do whatever they want because we can't take it anymore and we end up losing everything... I don't want that to happen to you. I can't see you like this, beaten up and miserable just because I was too selfish to let you go. I want to protect you. Don't you see the chances of us getting beat up are much lower if we're not together? It may sound crazy, but that's the only option we have. And it fucking kills me but we have to do it. I love you and if not being with me makes you safe then that's just the sacrifice I have to make, right?" It's hard to be persuasive and convincing when you're choking back tears.

"So what, you're going to let them win?!" Cartman asks, trying to fight back tears of his own.

"No, they didn't win" I reply, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders "Nobody wins"

"Kahl" Cartman murmurs, tears dampening his beautiful, gilded irises. He wraps his arms around my waist and tentatively pulls me in, I feel his tears wet my hair as I bury my face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

**11:00 PM, April 23rd, 3 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

The chatter of the news drones on in the background as I sort through a shitload of paperwork that I honestly couldn't give a rats ass about. See, I don't like the news, it's all scare-mongering, stupid human interest stories and negativity that makes you want to hang yourself.

I finish my cup of coffee, careful not to spill it on what I'm sure is very important documents when I hear something that makes my blood grow cold.

"The bodies of two sixteen year old girls, Rebecca Miller and Sophie Penn were found at 3:00 AM today in a burnt out van, two miles outside their hometown of Bailey, Colorado. The teenagers had been reported missing four days ago and neighbours of Rebecca Miller said they had seen the two girls leaving in a stolen van. Disturbingly, their deaths seem to be the result of a suicide pact the girls made. An investigation into the events leading up to their death shows that both Rebecca Miller and Sophie Penn were bullied severely by pupils from their school, allegedly because of their sexuality."

Immediately I think of Kyle.

The night in the alley and his words "_Pretty soon we're just going to drive ourselves crazy and do something we'll_ _regret_ ".

Damn, I've managed to block out that night and now all the memories are hurtling back, screaming, frighteningly vivid.

There's no happy endings for kids like us. No matter how strong you try to be. It's hard to rise above the suffocating sea, filled with faceless monsters, because they've got anchors tied to your legs and they're constantly trying to lure you back to the terror. If only we could float, breathe, see the promising horizon. The open sky that always seemed so safe and understanding.

I guess you either go your separate ways, weighed down my memories and regret or you take your own life just so others don't take it from you.

Nothing changes. How sickening is that?

**Kyle's POV**

The story echoes in my head, a terrifying, cold truth. The images of the parents, crying, shaking, wondering why this had to happen to their daughters, the friends, all mourning and lost, clinging to each other. And then the guilty ones. Those guys and girls who will wretch at the thought of those horrible names they called those girls, all the torment and hate will haunt them forever. Every blow is just another bullet for a loaded gun of helpless impulse. The only way out.

Those two girls, happy and young, a life they'll never see opening for them. An old picture of the two of them. And fuck, do they remind me of Cartman and I. Because we used to hold hands proudly, smile happily. We were two kids who found each other, understood each other. We made each other feel like we mattered.

I'm snapped out of my daydream by Stan's voice

"Oh my God dude, those girls were from Bailey?! That's an hour drive from South Park, right?" Stan asks. Blissfully unaware to how horrified I am.

"Yeah" I reply weakly, unable to tear my eyes away,

"Poor girls. Isn't it awful?"

"It sure is" I whisper, pursing my lips together and staring down at the floor.

~x~

**30 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

The only reason Kenny and I showed up at this high school reunion is because I wanted to see Kyle. Well, Kenny only showed up because he thought he could hook up with a girl whose self esteem had plummeted due to the nights events. That's what happens at reunions, you see everyone's lives, people who you used to feel so close to and you realise that something that's missing from your life, everybody here seems to have plenty of.

For example, everyone here seems to have a date, a husband or a wife and I'm standing here, trying to spot a flash of red hair out of the crowd whilst I cradle a whiskey. I don't do dates. Or long-term relationships for that matter, I've kind of left that part of myself behind me. Dead in an alley. But I don't want to talk about that. I seem to meet some guy and fuck him for about two months and then meet somebody new. They've all looked the same, scarlet hair, freckles, green eyes. Preferably. I guess I have a thing for redheads.

I've had so many people come up to me, just dying to brag about their seemingly fantastic lives and inquire about mine, so they can gossip about me later. Apparently I'm mysterious. Since nobody knows what my job is, where I live, if I'm in a relationship or any God damn titbit of information. I could easily lie and say I'm a pimp who has fathered nine of my bottom bitch's babies, but who has the time to concoct a lie like that? Certainly not me, I just want to catch a glimpse of Kyle and get out of here.

As I wonder if Clyde's girlfriend's tits are real or fake, I feel two fingers tap on my shoulder. This is either some smug guy who was in my Spanish class or Kenny bragging about a chick he's going to score with tonight.

"Excuse me?" Wait. That voice. A shiver travels down my spine and my palms go feverish. It can't be...

I turn around and standing there, making the lights pale and the noise simmer down, is Kyle Broflovski. The boy who's been plucking his own enchanting chord on my heartline is now, well, a man. And he's still as sinfully beautiful as he ever was. I know I'm staring, drinking him in with indulgent wonder. Fuck, he looks good. It's almost unfair.

I swallow nervously at the look in his eyes. I know that look, it's the same look he gave me everyday of our lives until we went our separate ways. That hasn't changed one bit. Those expressive, passionate eyes.

"Hey, fatass" He grins. Ah, that old term of endearment.

"Hey, Jewboy" I smile back, neither of us flinching as we explore each others eyes.

"How have you been?" Kyle's smile turns affectionate and I hope he remembers what we were and how great we used to be together. God knows I think about it everyday.

"Good. You know, can't complain. You?"

"I've been great" He smiles, rather defiantly, snapping himself out of this dreamy, thoughtful look.

And through my lovesick haze, I see it. That gold band around his finger. Mocking me. Proving me wrong once and for all.

Kyle sees me noticing it, sees the look of despair and hurt on my face and he starts to grow shy. I hope he feels guilty.

And then, just to kick me while I'm down. "Am I interrupting something?" Bebe Stevens. Or should I say Bebe Broflovski?

Kyle smiles at her uneasily and then holds her hand. Every uncomfortable look he gives me tells me he's sorry.

But I guess it's too late for apologies.

**Kyle's POV**

It was never a fling. Or teenage rebellion. It was love. True, haunting love that will never, ever leave me. Because even though, two years ago, I vowed to love Bebe until the die I day and I gave my heart to her, she never stood a chance against him. Which is terrible I know, because I do love her, I'm just not in love with her, my feelings for her are not as untamable, passionate and as consuming as my feelings for Cartman. He stole my heart years ago and nurtured it with cool, charismatic ease. For what little boy doesn't dearly love a sociopath?

He wasn't at the wedding, it would've been too cruel and mean-spirited. Though I would never want to act that way. I haven't seen him for twelve, long years. I don't know why. Maybe it was because I was afraid of being rejected by him, that he had met somebody new, who, unlike me, didn't break his heart. Didn't abandon him. The guilt is asphyxiating sometimes, it's enough to keep me awake at night.

After that night in the alley we rarely spoke, saw each other. Because that burning, destructive hate is the fuel to the part of us that loves each other so violently and we used that hate as a defence mechanism. It was stubborn, masochistic hate that drove us further apart.

But now I had to know. I'd become so possessed by thoughts of him that I had to see him again. So I came here, to our high school reunion, in the vain hope that he might have actually showed up.

Falling in love with his eyes is like this rare instinct I have. Those eyes. Those manipulative, twisted, captivating eyes. It feels like he's been with me the entire time, hiding in my subconscious and floating like a dream.

Something tells me that this isn't the last time I'll see him.

* * *

**1:00 AM, April 24th, 2 more days**

**Cartman's POV**

I paint pictures on the wall with my untrustworthy eyes. Drunken, intoxicated colours crawl over each other, intertwining in an orgy of pastel, muted and primary colours. I never knew the spectrum was so wide.

The bittersweet, tempting, envious green asks the violent, hot-tempered, rage-filled red to dance.

I can feel the remnants of white settling in the valley between my nose and my lips. Jack Daniels sticks his slimy, oozing tongue in my mouth, kissing me selfishly.

That does it. I'm gonna call him.

I grab my phone off my nightstand, my clumsy fingers slipping over the screen. Kyle.

The ring is so dull that it tires me, my eyes beginning to close before- Crap. Fucking answering machine. What time is it?

"Hi Kahl, it's me. Remember how I told you that I wasn't doing coke anymore? Well, I am fucking wasted and I don't give a rats ass what you think. Because here's the dirty, little secret, the only reason I started doing coke is because of you. That night in the alley, when you gave up on us? When you caved? That was the fucking shit stained first chapter of my crappy, adult life. I did coke because I missed you, missed you, fucking cried myself to sleep every night because I fucking missed you. And you're fucking perfectness and God damn it, it isn't fucking fair!... Look, the reason I moved so far away, the reason why I lost touch with everybody for so long, the reason why I've never truly had a committed relationship with a grown up before is all because you fucking _ruined me_! I was already a mess with a shitload of issues and then you made me happy and took it all away! So we screw, make love, fuck, whatever you want to call it twice a year and that should be enough, except it isn't! Right? I know it isn't! I am so in love with you Kahl Broflovski! Like, it's painful, it's slowly killing me and God fucking damn it, I love you so much, it's crazy... Seriously, I just wish that when I come home from work, you're there and when I wake up, you're sleeping next to me... Do you know how fucking beautiful you look when you sleep?! It makes me feel like a fucking perv when I stare at you, but that's okay. Hey, also, I wanna go out with you and you can introduce me as your boyfriend or whatever and we won't feel bad anymore... Because times change and blah blah blah, we're grown ups now. And your kid, hey, I'm not a the type of person who can handle kids, but I'd try to be one, for you! Totally... What I'm trying to say Kahl is, that for eighteen years I've been lost, trying to find meaning and it's all because we made a crappy decision. But then, six years ago, fate brought us back together at that high school reunion thingy and that means something, right?! That's like, a fucking message from the universe or some shit to make this happen! We fucking got a second chance at this and we're wasting it... And why?! I'm miserable, you're miserable, I can fucking feel it. So just grow up and do something, please? Before I fucking lose it. The ball is in your court, asswipe. Bye."

** 8:00 AM, April 24th, 2 more days**

**Kyle's POV**

I'm driving myself crazy. I play the message over and over, every pleading word is just salt being poured into an open wound.

I want to be angry. Outraged. Demand how he could say such things, but he's only being honest. Even if it fucking hurts. Still, you could've sworn he didn't feel such deep, conflicting emotions. Every time we meet up and I melt at his charming, mischievous smile, I kid myself in thinking he's okay.

I know he had a drug problem and I begged him to get help. But I never thought he sank that low because of me. I just assumed that was the kind of life he was living now, reckless and somewhat glamourous, though he always assured me, rather jokingly, that it wasn't.

It makes me feel sick. Something grotesque makes the lining of my stomach sizzle and I know it's tinged with guilt.

~x~

**31 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

I've been sat in this coffee-house with Kyle for about two hours. Things aren't the same, but I didn't expect them to be, we left things so confused and messed up that I guess we don't really know how to behave around each other. Still, I've missed him so much and it still feels so easy to just talk to him. No matter how many fights we got into, as a kid I always got the feeling that if I was in trouble then Kyle would drop all the petty bullshit and help me.

That spark is still there, palpable, unbeatable and we don't dismiss it. How can we? In fact, we encourage it and I can't ignore the thrill that sprints across Kyle's sharp irises when we look at each other, smile at each other... However, one thing we've managed to avoid is the topic of us. All those years ago.

"Congratulations on your wedding, I don't think I told you that at the reunion" I smile.

"Oh" Kyle says dismissively before smiling and saying "Yeah, well, Bebe went to the same college as me and because we knew each other we started to hang out and things just kind of, I don't know, fell into place..."

Something falters in Kyle's voice and he stares down at his wedding ring curiously. Before I know it, he's staring back up at me, smiling in relief, staring unapologetically.

"So, are you seeing anyone? A boyfriend or a girlfriend?" Kyle asks and the streak of hope is hard to block out.

"Uh, no. I'm not really good with long-term relationships."

"Why's that?" Kyle asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

_Because of you_. "I get scared easily" I reply dryly, which elicits an exasperated laugh and an eye roll from Kyle.

"Do you ever think about me?" Kyle asks, clearly waiting nervously for an answer.

I look at him deeply for a while before replying "Yeah. A lot more than I'm proud of."

**Kyle's POV**

"So" Cartman begins, cold, frigid air escaping from his mouth. The January weather has truly come full force this year. "I forgot to ask you something..."

"What's that?"

"Do you still think about me?" He stops then and my heart starts to swell, unexpected heat attacking my body. I turn around and his eyes are firmly fixed on me, determined to get an answer, while his body is still shivering with cold and anxiety.

I decide to answer the only way I know how.

I bite my lip as I walk towards him. Any hesitancy or malignant fear is crushed like black ice under my feet.

"You wanna know if I still think about you?" I whisper, my mouth centimetres away from his. Our body heat making me feel safe. I can feel his lungs heaving in time with mine, I hear our hearts discordant, anticipatory rhythm, which only encourages me.

Cartman nods, our eyes intertwining, so effortlessly, like clockwork.

I cup his face as our lips collide, my body weakening, collapsing into his sturdy embrace. It's like being awakened from a confusing dream and seeing the familiar again. And that's exactly what Cartman is. Right and perfect and everything I've ached for all these years. I squeeze my eyes shut in a desperate bid for this to never end as he takes full control of me, kissing me just like he used to. I clutch onto his hair, while his fingers claw into my back, we tangle ourselves in each other as our kisses grow feverish and wild.

"This isn't over, Jewboy" Cartman whispers huskily when we pull away, our foreheads pressed together, our shaking bodies pressed together tightly, my heartbeat finding it's home.

* * *

**10:00 AM, April 25th, Tomorrow**

**Cartman's POV**

I lock my office door, anger flaring up at my idiocy. When you're wasted a lot of ridiculously stupid and terrible ideas seem like the best idea ever, the only thing you can do. Which explains that message I left on Kyle's phone last night. The message is blurry to me, though I remember telling him I loved him, something being all his fault and telling him that he has to change.

My skin crawls at the thought of apologising, unsurprisingly, I don't like doing that. I think pride and stubbornness are monsters that live inside us all and that we can't (or simply don't want to) purge. It's a more crippling vice than any brand of whiskey, any drug, any cigarette or sinful temptation. They're such destructive entities. Still, I should apologise, right? If only to save an argument tomorrow. Yep, I'm seeing Kyle tomorrow. Holy shit.

With my skin burning and my fists clenching and unclenching, I drown out the hideous rings.

"Hello?" Kyle asks, he sounds tired and annoyed. Who can blame the guy?

"Hi, wait, you're not at work, are you?" I ask, laughing uncomfortably.

"No. I took the day off to spend the day with Toby before I leave tomorrow. Why are you calling me, anyway?" Here's the thing, I very rarely get intimidated by people, at 6 ft 3, I'm usually the guy who's intimidating. Hell, even as a chubby nine-year old I didn't give a fuck about people with "power" over me because I knew that people always have weaknesses to pinpoint. But when Kyle is talking like this, I can literally feel myself shrinking.

"It's about last night" I mumble quietly, cringing like crazy.

"Oh, the message... Yeah, I heard it." Kyle replies bitterly and if he were here now his eyes would've turned acidic.

"I'm so sorry, Kahl" I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and slumping in my chair.

"No, don't be..." Okay, what?! "I mean, what you said, well, you kind of had a point. Some of it was really nice to hear, though overall it made me feel like a total prick."

Fuck, I can't even remember what I said to him.

"You know what I'm really disappointed about?" Kyle asks, an unmistakable sad tinge to his voice.

"What?" I whisper, guilty.

"That you're doing coke again" Kyle replies "Cartman, I thought you were clean, how could you do this to yourself again? Do you know how scared I was when Kenny called me the last time you OD'd? Please don't put yourself through this again, God knows what will happen to you-"

"Kahl, relax, it's not a big deal-"

"How the hell can you say that?" Kyle shouts.

"Look, it's not like I'm doing it regularly or anything. It's just that, well, things have felt so crazy and I'm thinking too much and messing myself up, that's the only reason why I did it last night. I was just lonely and sad, okay? But I'm sorry."

"You could've called me?" Kyle asks.

"I didn't want to bother you." I mumble, squirming at my humiliation.

"Cartman, I would've rather you talked to me last night than have to listen to that message" Kyle replies calmly "Since I only see you twice a year, phone calls are always appreciated."

I smirk goofily and laugh under my breath and I can tell Kyle is doing the same thing. It's just these small moments...

"I guess I should go." I roll my eyes as I see somebody through the glass panel walls of my office, gesturing for me to come out.

"Okay" Kyle whispers. "See you tomorrow"

"Can't wait. Bye" I grin, though it's bittersweet.

"Bye" Kyle says softly, as we're cut off once again.

~x~

**4:00 PM, April 25th, Tomorrow**

**Kyle's POV**

"Hey Kyle, how was your day with Toby?" Stan asks, as I walk into the kitchen and see him making what is an impressive, if not stupidly big sandwich that I don't think he's going to eat all by himself. Though I would pay good money to see him attempt it.

"Good. When I dropped him off Bebe and I talked for a while and she seems cool. She said that Toby is doing fine in the house but she was wondering what he's behaving like around me" I reply, searching the fridge for a beer.

"Oh, and how is he doing?" Stan asks, adding another two tomato slices to his triumphant sandwich.

"Fine. He's asking me why I'm staying over at uncle Stan's though, but he's not upset... just curious." I shrug.

Stan sniggers and shakes his head "Dude, I can't be called an 'uncle', okay? I'm too young for that. Or so I'd like to think."

"Maybe we're both going through a mid-life crisis" I smirk, waiting to see the signature Stan Marsh glare.

"Don't even joke about that." Stan warns before turning back to his masterpiece "Anyway, speaking of heavy stuff like that, remember that thing you were talking about at Wal-Mart the other day?"

"Yeah?" Oh yes, the Cartman thingy. Now, I'm usually kind of skeptical when it comes to karma and the planets and stars aligning to make certain events happen but a lot of weird things have been going on that is hooking my attention more and more on Cartman and I's relationship. Like that horrible story about those two girls and the message Cartman left me last night. I just think it's a coincidence that this week has led me down this path where Cartman and I's future is becoming more and more clear. Especially since we're meeting up tomorrow.

"Have you been thinking about going for it?" Dude, if only you knew how crazy I'm driving myself over all of it.

"Honestly, I have a pretty good feeling about it" I smirk, trying my best not to blush. It's true, I mean after the initial shock and overwhelming guilt, I realised that Cartman was basically asking me to be his boyfriend and that he was willing to make this work.

"Without sounding lame or cheesy or anything" Stan says, pausing momentarily to slather a sickly amount of mayonnaise on the bread "I got a feeling this could be the start of something awesome for you"

"Well, I hope so" I mumble, a goofy smile spreading across my face as I let myself believe Stan's words. And tomorrow is the first day of a whole new chapter.

"Hey, you wanna watch Pulp Fiction or something?" I ask, snapping myself out of childish daydreams.

"Sure" Stan shrugs.

As I walk out of the kitchen I turn to him and grin "I told you that I'm going on a business trip tomorrow, right?"

~x~

**31 years old**

**Cartman's POV**

"I've missed you" I murmur as I kiss down Kyle's bare chest, he giggles above me and runs his hands through my hair. He likes touching my hair, he always did. And the more we've been meeting up in these past couple of months, the more we're starting to fall back into old habits. Like arguing and ripping on each other often, laughing at old jokes, kissing each other at any opportunity and Kyle messing with my hair.

However, it's been four months since our kiss in the parking lot and this weekend we've decided to stay in a motel. This is a big deal for two reasons:

1. It's the first time Kyle and I are spending more than one day with each other

2. This is the first time Kyle and I have had sex in thirteen years.

And lying in the aftermath of our tryst, I have to say, it was worth the wait. I thought the whole thing was going to be pretty complicated. I mean, even though we've done it before, it's still a big step. I'm the only guy Kyle has slept with and that was a long time ago, plus it's just another piece of our affair and I didn't think Kyle would be able to handle the guilt of betraying Bebe. I thought we would have at least talked about it first, but as soon as the motel door was shut, Kyle had pulled me into a throbbing, lusty kiss that I couldn't get enough of. Soon hands were dragging over familiar places, lips were breaking kisses and marking their territory elsewhere. Clothes were being discarded. Warm, moist skin met. Pleads to God were being uttered. Names were being cried. And it was the best I've had in a long time.

I've missed a lot of things about Kyle over the years. His toughness, his feisty attitude, his wittiness, his ability to prove me wrong, his laugh, his smile, his kindness, the way he looks when he's so angry he would happily strangle me... But I've also missed the chemistry, the way he looks at me when he pulls away from a kiss, the moans he makes when my lips brush against those tender places, the attraction we feel towards each other and how aggressive we can be. I guess fighting and fucking are not that separate from each other, in our case anyway. When we were kids, arguing and fighting were the only ways we could show mangled, warped affection to each other, be close to each other and revel in each other's touches, even if it resulted in pain. So when we have sex all that animalistic, rampant, unhinged passion screams again, like a burning phoenix.

"Wow" Kyle moans breathlessly, snickering before saying "I'd forgotten how good you were."

**Kyle's POV**

It's been a while since I've lain in a bed, with a satisfied smile on my face, my body drenched with the cold sweat of carnal effort, my heart jumping frantically and my lungs scraping for lusty breaths.

Even now, after thirteen years, Cartman can still my make me shiver and come undone.

"We need to do this more often" I gasp, finding it hard to catch my breath. I slide my eyes over to Cartman, who's just as exhausted as me, but he still looks wonderful. An acidic teardrop pricks the flesh of my heart. "Being together like this now. It just reminds me of how much I love you"

"You love me?" Cartman asks, his face lighting up with innocent hope.

I smile reassuringly, my hand reaching out to stroke his soft, beautiful face. I stare at him with honest eyes and whisper "I never stopped."

* * *

**8:00 PM, April 26th, Today**

**Cartman's POV**

You hear people talk about their "happy places", right? Those places that if you closed your eyes and cleared your thoughts, this idyllic, perfect place would still be there, emptied of worries and flaws. It would just be a world of constant happiness and contentment, I guess.

I think my happy place is a hotel room, with Kyle next to me and the sun so blinding that the people outside disintegrate into insignificance. We belong to each other and we're all we need. It's thoughts like this that make me wonder if we're made for each other, our hearts tailored and designed to mesh with one and other. I wonder...

Anyway, we've been here since two o'clock and though I could happily spend these three days in bed, Kyle's hungry and so am I. So I begrudgingly nodded along to his suggestion that we go to the Sizzler that's a twenty minute walk away.

I'm still in bed however, watching Kyle get dressed. Sometimes he turns to me and snaps at me for staring, but I tell him it's not like I'm looking at something I haven't seen before, which makes him roll his eyes and smile, exasperated.

"So" Kyle says, as he puts his shirt on "I've got kind of big news."

"What's that?" I ask, as I pick his jeans off the floor and throw them at him.

Kyle smirks and catches them before continuing "Bebe and I are getting divorced."

He studies my face hopefully for a reaction, probably expecting me to be happy. But I don't know how I'm feeling. It's a lethal combination of emotions, happiness, disbelief, fear... My mind just blanks, this primitive, sickening rush of adrenaline clearing my mind of any words and my body flushes with this nauseating heat and meets with an unnerving chill.

"You're getting divorced?" I whisper dryly, my throat tightening.

Kyle nods, smiling at me so lovingly. "Yeah. I just can't keep doing this anymore, you know? I'm in my thirties and for all of my adult life I've felt like a kid who can't make his own decisions. And now I've realised that I can't waste my, or Bebe's time by pushing on with a marriage that's clearly not working. I'm sick of only feeling truly happy twice a year and I hate having to keep you a secret, when you're so important to me."

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" I ask, wincing at my question.

Kyle furrows his eyebrows and his happiness turns to confusion as he replies "Of course I am. I, I want to be with you, Cartman."

"I want to be with you too... It's just, don't you think this is happening too fast? Maybe we should slow it down" These words aren't my own. I know they're not. It's just this childish fear of finally getting something I've wanted for so long and I don't know if I can handle it...

"I don't think we could go slower if we tried!" Kyle snaps and it makes me squirm. "Cartman, this is it! Our second chance, right? This is what we've wanted for so long and through all the crap we've gone through, don't you think we deserve this? There's nothing holding us back, me and Bebe have broken up-"

"Yeah, exactly! You've broken up! You're getting divorced, like everyone else! And odds are that we're gonna be the same! We broke up once before, how do you know we won't break up again?"

Fuck.

It's just the silence he offers me.

But I'm too proud to take back every word I've said.

**Kyle's POV**

Cartman and I have said a lot of horrible things to each other over the years. We've said spiteful, bitter, hate-filled things that could break the hardest of exteriors. But what he just said? That has to be the worst. These stupid feelings I have for him, don't help with the pain.

"Wow. I can't believe you're bringing this up again. I never expected you to get over it, because I sure haven't, but I never thought you would bring it up now." I say through gritted teeth and I don't care if I cry. The tears are more out of anger than anything else.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Cartman shouts.

"You know what I'm talking about! I know what you meant, you're still blaming me for what happened in that alley all those years ago!" I cover my mouth and try to control these tears. Jesus, I can't even look at him right now...

"Kahl, wait-"

"No! Shut up and fucking listen, okay?! I only did what I thought was right, I was only trying to protect you so we didn't end up killing ourselves like those poor girls or getting ourselves killed by those fucking douchebags! We had no fucking choice, Cartman! And yes, I do feel terrible about it and yes, I do think it was probably one of the worst decisions I have ever made but you need to trust me and know that I will never let that happen again, okay?"

"It still doesn't change what you did!" There's something so venomous about his voice. And this twisted, bitter part of me tells me that he will never stop blaming me or accusing me. It's bad enough that I can't forgive myself, it's even worse knowing that the one person you've only truly loved feels the same way.

"For fuck's sake will you stop accusing me?! I'm sorry, okay! I'm sorry for being such a cruel bastard! I'm sorry for being scared! I'm fucking sorry that I hurt you so much to the point that you'll never forgive me!" I practically scream it and it frightens me so much that I sit down at the end of the bed, staring at the wall.

"Kahl" Cartman murmurs sadly, his hand reaches out to touch my shoulder and though I want to fall into his embrace and cry, I can't, I just can't.

"No! Don't!" I snap, quickly getting up and staring into his pleading Golden Brown eyes. The first time I've seen him look truly terrified.

"I know you never meant for us to get so hurt" Cartman says, his voice dark "But if we were together, that night would just be a scar on something so perfect and something I'm afraid I'll resent you over. And I don't want to feel like that. But I can't trust myself."

"I don't care if you resent me." I begin, I shakily breathe, biting my lip as these hopeless tears run "I don't care if you can never forgive me or if you hate me for it. As long as we're together than I can deal with that one scar... Can't you?"

"I want to" Cartman says and I can tell he means it, he just needs help. "Believe me Kahl, I want to"

I nod my head and smile sadly at him. Please, Cartman we can make this work, I promise.

"But I don't think I'm strong enough" Cartman admits. The first time I've ever heard him saying something so humble.

"You're stronger than you think you are."

Cartman smiles at me tearfully, his breathing stammering as he looks around the room, searching for an answer.

"Cartman" I begin, edging closer to him "These years have been hard, I know that. I know that you're hurt and that you've struggled, but look at us. We're still here. You're still the boy I fell in love with and you've used all that strength that you didn't know you had to keep yourself alive. The real you. The one I want to be with and that I love so much. You can do this."

I think back to that message he left me. He wants this, he needs this just as much as I do. Why can't he let himself believe it? Why can't he push through the fear and let himself trust me?

"This is too much" Cartman whispers, shaking his head and he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

"But it's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But I just can't ruin it, I can't let myself have this when I know I'll mess it up."

I can't take this anymore, why do I always have to be the one who has to stay rational and in control? Why can't I cry and shout and be angry? I don't know what to do anymore, I don't know how this started unravelling so fast, so uncontrollably. How did this start to slip between my fingers, why does this feel like a cruel practical joke? God fucking damn it. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much. But I can't ever leave, not again. Because I know how miserable I am, knowing he's there but not being able to have him. I love him. And it fucking hurts. It always has.

"Fuck it!" I scream, picking up the glass ashtray on the dresser and hurling it at the wall, the noise it makes when it shatters spectacularly makes me smile wickedly, my tongue flicking along my incisor.

"Kahl, have you lost your fucking mind?! Calm down!" Cartman shouts.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I cry, pacing back and forth, tugging at my hair and shirt in excruciating anger.

"So you're not going to be with me, to stop us from splitting up?! Because you're nothing but a scared little boy who can't let himself be vulnerable and open for even a second?! It's like you don't fucking trust me, or something!" Malice seeps from every word I speak. I'm numb from caring.

"That's so out of line, of course I trust you!"

"Then why can't you just accept the fact that I want to be with you?!" I'm practically begging with him now, but I keep my distance, I could easily kill him. However, something softens inside me when I realise what I just said. I want to be with him. I'll fight to be with him and I'll keep screaming it until he gets the message. I have to be brutally honest. "And not just twice a year, I want to be able to see you everyday!"

"But maybe this way is better!" What? How the fuck can he say that? He knows God damn well it isn't!

I ball my fists and stamp my foot against the ground, dizzying frustration being stringed through my gritted teeth "God fucking damn it Cartman! Can't you see that it isn't?! Can't you see how fucking miserable I am?! And how the only time I feel happy is when I'm with you?! And you feel the same way. I know you do. You even said so yourself on that fucking message you left me!"

I've called his bluff. And fuck, does it feel good. Your move, cowboy.

"I was wasted!" He desperately tries to defend himself, becoming just as worked up and crazy as me.

"That doesn't make a fucking difference! I know you, Cartman! I can see how much this hurts you and I can see that what you're saying is absolute bullshit! And the worst part is, that you know it's bullshit and you still lie to me! Don't I deserve the truth from you?"

I wait for an answer. But he can't even give me that.

"I'm giving you what you've always wanted! This is what you want, isn't it?!" I ask even though I know I'm right. I know him. I know what he wants. He wants me and I'd happily belong to him. I'd sign my life away to him in a heartbeat.

"Yeah... But don't you see this is exactly why I can't have it?" He replies, defeated, his body draining of any fight.

"But why?!" I beg, wiping my tears away with my wrists. My throat hurts.

"Because I'm fucking terrified! I mean, the thought of being with you is amazing and perfect but it's too God damn scary! Look at me, I'm a fucking train wreck and you're the closest thing to perfection I have ever seen! I need somebody to look after me and I couldn't think of a better person than you, but... You've got a kid and a job. I want to be your boyfriend not your responsibility. I would do anything to protect you and I know you would do the same for me. But I'm too much of a burden. I can't do that to you, Kahl."

"I'd be willing to do all that for you, can't you see? I love you" I whimper, walking over to him so I can kiss him and make him believe me. But he turns away.

"No. I can't let myself have this." Cartman mutters, turning away from me. And it feels like it's for good.

"This isn't over." I vow sternly.

"I'm doing the right thing" He replies. My heart clenches and shrivels up.

Without even thinking about it, I sling my fist and punch him in the face as hard as I can. The blood stains my knuckles. His nose swells with blood. I don't feel a thing. And neither does he. He clenches his jaw while I stare at him, tears shattering my composure.

"I said, this isn't over. You're gonna be with me someday, I swear it. I'm not letting you go again." I've never been so sure. My mouth aches from gritting my teeth, every nerve trembles.

Cartman licks the blood away that has run down his face, smirking and stares at me with vicious Golden Brown eyes. God, he's beautiful. "Really?"

I nod before smiling meanly "You know that you're full of bullshit, right?"

Cartman shrugs and grins "What do you think?"

And suddenly we're nine years old again. Caught between that threshold of love and hate, getting a sick thrill out of hurting each other. But this time it's so much more painful.

"Maybe I should go home" I mutter.

"Maybe you should" Cold, unflinching.

Cartman's strong hand grabs hold of my arm and he brings me forward, I don't question it as I kiss his blood stained lips. Silent, gentle, yearning... His eyebrows furrow as he deepens our kiss, making my back arch, his hand sliding from my face up into my curls. I explore his mouth, give in to that familiar taste, tinged with copper.

"I love you" I whisper, studying his wet, guilty eyes, his blood covered nose and his crooked, unsure smile.

"I love you too" he nods his head, making me believe it.

"Then fuck me before I leave" I reply before I'm hit with a heady, incredible kiss.

**Epilogue**

The world isn't as vast as some people think. Everyone is a familiar face, a relative, a friend, a life-saver or a long-lost love. It only takes something tragic to make you realise how small the world is and how with just one breath or a complicated tapestry of events, we are all linked to one and other.

There were two car accidents. Both occurring at 2:30 AM, April 27th. Miles apart from each other, heading in completely different directions. Now, when paramedics and police arrived at each scene, they didn't think anything of it. It was just another tragic accident that they would see countless times throughout the year. After all, car crashes are not exactly rare.

They had also heard of another accident occurring at the same time, but again, thought nothing of it.

Kyle Broflovski was declared dead at the scene. A bloodied, limp body. Another life taken. No matter how high the numbers rise in cases like these, the shock doesn't wear off. Strangely, a message could be heard playing, a depressed, heartfelt voice that spoke of love and heartbreak and blame. It was coming from a damaged phone and in the aftermath, a young, female paramedic listened to the message perplexed and upset. But it was the name. A familiar name, a name she had heard that night. Cartman. Why did that name sound so eerily familiar? It couldn't have been...

She had heard another accident tonight, a body identified as Eric Cartman.

Surely these two people couldn't have been tied together by something so harrowing? This couldn't have been what the universe, fate had designed for them all along?

Beth Gibson, the paramedic who was so distraught by what she listening to, snuck away from the carnage of the wreck, clutching onto her rosary as she listened to the message over and over again. As the cruelty and injustice started to thaw, as the pain of this mysterious man's voice peeled away, all was left was love.

A love between two people who were strangers to her. An iridescent, inspiring love that shone too bright and she started to wonder about the years they had been separated, the lives they had formed without each other and though she had never met Kyle and Eric before, there was a pulse in this message, a voice that whispered that they couldn't live without each other.

They couldn't be together in this life. A life filled with uncertainty, prejudice and misunderstanding. Their spark was too wild, their hearts too battered and bruised by the ache of yearning for each other.

And if only one life was taken tonight, then the other's world would be torn in half. Floating through life as a broken, lost soul. A life that would be drained of meaning and purpose, because their meaning and purpose had left them behind.

But Beth Gibson, a self-confessed helpless romantic, knew that Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman were destined to be rewarded with an afterlife together, their souls rising from the burnt out cars and the cries of pain to find each other again. They wouldn't have to be confused and miserable anymore, like the message said, Kyle and Eric were getting a second chance. An eternal one.

Who said soulmates didn't exist?


End file.
